


Yaala

by Prixin47



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-29 00:16:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21145592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prixin47/pseuds/Prixin47
Summary: When Voyager stops at the Ya'kai homeworld for some R&R, the beautiful Minister of Arts and Culture takes an interest in Captain Janeway, and the feeling is mutual.





	Yaala

_Captain’s Log **Stardate 50205.6:** We’ve entered into a trade agreement with the Ya’kai, a newly warp-capable species whose second moon boasts rich veins of dilithium. In return for rights to mine several kilotons, I’ve assigned Lieutenant Torres to help them build stable containment fields for their new warp engines, making them safer and more efficient. We have found the Ya’kai to be a generous and welcoming people. They have invited us to take some R&R on their home world, and to attend the arts festival on their third moon. The crew and I are looking forward to being some of the first interstellar travelers to experience their vibrant culture in more depth over the coming days._  
  
—  
  
“Computer, pause recording.”

Kathryn sat back in her Ready Room chair and gazed thoughtfully out the window at the shimmering green planet below. She wasn’t quite sure how or if to include Yaala in her log.  
  
The Ya’kai Minister of Art and Culture had been most accommodating in making arrangements for Voyager’s crew to experience all that the third moon arts festival had to offer, and she’d been particularly solicitous towards Voyager’s Captain. Kathryn was used to being clucked over by alien diplomats, but there was something about the intensity of Yaala’s attention that made her stomach do backflips.  
  
She was due for a call with the minister in just a few minutes, however, so she left aside the question of committing her to the formal record and instead took a moment to smooth her hair and check her lipstick in the small mirror she kept tucked away in her desk.  
  
The comm chirped. “Kim to Captain Janeway.”  
  
“Janeway here.”  
  
“Captain, you have an incoming transmission from Minister Yaala.”  
  
“Put it through to my Ready Room.”  
  
“Aye, Captain.”  
  
The comm chirped again and, a moment later, Yaala’s face appeared on Kathryn’s viewer.  
  
“Good afternoon, Captain,” Yaala purred. Her dark golden skin, tightly curled black hair, and tawny eyes gave her a strikingly leonine look. She fixed Kathryn with her customarily intense gaze and Kathryn could have sworn the temperature in the room went up a few degrees.  
  
“Good afternoon, Minister,” replied Kathryn, flushing a little. “How go the preparations for the festival?”  
  
“Everything continues well,” replied Yaala. “We look forward to your appearance. When may we expect you?”  
  
“The first group is scheduled to beam down in approximately two and a half hours,” Kathryn responded. “Just in time for the opening celebration.”  
  
“Very good,” replied Yaala, her lips parting in a smile that revealed a row of glistening and slightly pointed teeth. “And you will be joining this first group?”  
  
“I will,” replied Kathryn with a smile. “I’m looking forward to meeting you in person.”  
  
“As am I, Captain,” said Yaala. “May I ask only one more thing of you?”  
  
“You may certainly ask,” replied Kathryn with a grin.  
  
“Please, how many among your group require vegetation?”  
  
Kathryn was momentarily confused. The universal translator had mostly adjusted to the Ya’kai language, but there were still a few hiccups that Harry had yet to work out. After a moment’s puzzlement, she realized that the Minister was double checking the crew’s dietary requirements - a very considerate gesture given that the Ya’kai were a largely carnivorous species and did not typically prepare much in the way of vegetarian cuisine.  
  
“My first officer and my Chief of Security are vegetarians,” replied Kathryn. “The rest of us will be delighted with the meat-based dishes you choose to share with us.”  
  
“Very well,” replied Yaala, writing down Kathryn’s reply by hand in a well-used notebook. “We will see you this evening.”  
  
“I look forward to it, Minister.”  
  
“Yaala out.”  
  
—  
  
When Kathryn got off duty that evening, she eschewed the usual banter with Chakotay and Tom on her way to the turbolift and hurried to her quarters to get ready. After looking through her closet and deciding that nothing suited her for the evening, she decided to use her remaining replicator rations for the week to create a new dress.  
  
She settled on a gown made of the same peach silk as her favorite nightgown. The neckline was cut such that her right shoulder was completely bare, while her left arm was covered to the wrist. The dress tapered in at her waist before flaring as it fell just past her knees in back and just above them in the front.  
  
She deconstructed her high bun, letting her hair fall in soft waves over her slim, muscular shoulders, and slipped on a pair of gold ballet slippers with a low heel.  
  
When she looked at herself in the mirror, she breathed a sigh of relief. There was something about Yaala that made her feel about twelve years old. She hoped the confident elegance of this ensemble would antidote the sensation somewhat.  
  
She pinned her comm badge to the front of her dress and headed for Transporter Room Two, where she met Chakotay, Tuvok, Harry, and Tom. They were all dressed for a night in the tropics. Tom and Harry wore Hawaiian shirts. Chakotay wore white linen. Tuvok wore his customary purple vestments. She smiled inwardly when their eyebrows all rose in one fluid motion as she entered the room.  
  
“Captain,” Tom finally said, “may I say that you look lovely this evening?”  
  
“You may,” she said with a grin, at which point Chakotay and Harry chuckled.  
  
They all stepped onto the transporter pad and she turned to Crewman Shaar, who was a little goggle-eyed as he considered his Captain.  
  
“Energize,” she said, and they dematerialized.  
  
—  
  
When the small group materialized on the wharf near the gates of the Temple of Joy, where the festival was to take place, they found Yaala waiting. She stood half a head taller than Kathryn and was breathtaking in a simple jumper made from what looked like rough green silk, with many strategically placed cutouts that revealed ample portions of dark golden skin.  
  
“Minister Yaala,” said Kathryn, warmly.  
  
Yaala took a little shuddering breath as Kathryn stepped towards her. She had been smitten the first time she’d seen the Starfleet Captain’s astonishing blue eyes twinkling at her through the viewscreen, and had become only more so when she discovered that this great beauty was matched with erudition and wit.  
  
But in person, her gleaming hair, her elegant jawline, her muscular legs all made Yaala’s lips swell. She couldn’t quite believe this woman was real.  
  
“Captain Janeway,” Yaala said, regaining her composure and coming forward. “You and your crew are most welcome.”  
  
After they got the introductions out of the way, Yaala led them through the gates, which changed colors and made a pleasant tinkling noise as they each passed through.  
  
“The gates reveal your _kata_,” said Yaala, addressing the group. “This is your disposition as you enter our festivities. Take note of the changes you observe later, for you may feel different as you leave than you do at present.”  
  
Kathryn made a point of noticing Tuvok’s color, a deep chartreuse, and wondered if it would change before the night ended.  
  
Yaala seemed especially delighted by Kathryn’s color, a shade of inky red that one might find most properly in a bottle of Malbec.  
  
“This means you are… especially excited by what tonight may bring,” Yaala, whispered to Kathryn as she linked their arms together and lead her up the hill towards the revelry.  
  
Kathryn felt goosebumps spring from the back of her neck and run down her arms and back at Yaala’s touch and the sweet, smoky scent that wafted from her hair. A pleasant warmth flared low in her belly and she flushed.  
  
“Harry,” said Tom, hanging back a little as the group followed the two women up the hill. “Did you see how Minister Yaala looked at the Captain?”  
  
“No,” replied Harry. “How did she look at her?”  
  
“Like she was a juicy rare steak ready to be devoured,” said Tom. “And the Captain didn’t exactly seem to mind.”  
  
“I’m sure Captain Janeway knows how to handle herself,” replied Harry, grateful that Tom couldn’t see him blushing in the twilight.  
  
“I’m sure she does,” Tom replied, “I just didn’t know she was interested in women.”  
  
“What does it matter if she is or isn’t?” asked Harry. “Aren’t most people attracted to everyone?”  
  
“Harry,” Tom stopped him, “are you telling me you’re interested in men?”  
  
“Sure,” said Harry, looking a little alarmed at Tom’s surprise. “My first love was Kwame Anderson. We were Parrises Squares teammates together at Academy Prep.”  
  
He paused in shock at Tom’s expression. “Wait, are you telling me you’ve only ever been with women?”  
  
“I must just be old-fashioned,” said Tom with a wry shake of his head, starting up the hill again.  
  
“Very old-fashioned,” said Harry, falling in step beside him. “I’m telling you, buddy, you’re missing out.”  
  
—  
  
Chakotay couldn’t help but notice the way Kathryn blushed and squirmed when Minister Yaala looked at her. He couldn’t decide if this turn of events made him more jealous or aroused.  
  
These kinds of receptions were usually an opportunity for him to flirt shamelessly with Kathryn and for her to gaze meaningfully at him in response. They had nearly crossed the line a few weeks back after having one too many glasses of mead at a reception they’d hosted for the Enarans. The proximity between their bodies on that occasion as they rested their foreheads together and fought the magnetic pull of the other’s lips had fueled his fantasies for months.  
  
But now, as he watched Kathryn disappearing up the hill ahead of him with Minister Yaala’s strong arm interlaced with her own, Chakotay accepted that this would not be one of those nights. He put his threatened ego to one side and decided to just be happy for his friend. After all, he realized, his fantasies would be just fine.  
  
—  
  
Tuvok made a mental note - a note that would most assuredly not make it into his official security log - that Captain Janeway seemed to be forming an attachment to the Ya’kai Minister of Arts and Culture.  
  
He decided that the possibility of a security risk was minimal, but began cataloguing potential scenarios for further analysis should the need arise.  
  
—  
  
As they approached the top of the hill, Kathryn’s eyes grew wide at the spectacle before them. A massive park was illuminated by what seemed to be millions of points of colorful light laced through every tree. Below, pagodas and tents of every size and color dotted the landscape, some hosting simple sculptures while others contained elegantly wrought contraptions. Scents of roasting meat and honeyed liqueur mingled with the salt air that gusted in from the coastline.  
  
Minister Yaala took them on a tour of the various tents with their myriad installations and pointed out the acrobats having an elaborate aerial duel with long wooden staves. When Tom and Harry peeled off to watch the acrobats, Chakotay took immediate interest in a retrospective on ancient Ya’kai artifacts and pointedly invited Tuvok to join him.  
  
_Kathryn, I’m taking one for the team here_, he thought. _I really hope you know how much I love you._  
  
—  
  
“Captain,” purred Yaala when they were at last alone together, “there is an exhibit I would most especially like to share with you.”  
  
“Only so long as you promise to call me Kathryn, Minister,” she said, feeling a little freer to be bold now that her crew were sufficiently distracted.  
  
“Then you must call me Yaala,” she replied, fixing Kathryn with those eyes again. Over the comm, those mesmerizing eyes had made her stomach do somersaults. Here, in the salt air with the atmosphere of revelry around them, the effect was amplified by several orders of magnitude.  
  
“Very well,” Kathryn said, leaning in slightly, and reciprocating with the intensity of her own fierce gaze, “please lead the way, Yaala.”  
  
Yaala grinned and bit her lip before taking Kathryn’s hand and leading her through a copse of trees and up another little embankment leading away from the thickest crowds.  
  
At the top, a small vehicle sat parked on a launching pad. Yaala climbed aboard and gestured for Kathryn to sit behind her. She climbed gingerly onto the seat, pressing her body against Yaala’s back.  
  
Yaala let out a low, rumbling purr and turned over her shoulder, one lip curling up in a mischievous grin. She took Kathryn’s hands and pulled them around her waist.  
  
“Hold on tight,” she said.  
  
Kathryn felt the hum of the craft springing to life, vibrating pleasantly between her legs as it rose from the launch pad.  
  
“Are you ready, Kathryn?”  
  
“Yes,” Kathryn said, holding on a little tighter.  
  
Within ten seconds, they were gaining altitude steadily, rising over the forest of twinkling lights, the bay, and the miles of coastline.  
  
“Where are we going?” Kathryn asked, a little awestruck at the sheer size of the festival campus. It had to be 18 square kilometers.  
  
“Further in,” said Yaala.  
  
The little craft began to climb further and the air grew noticeably cooler. Kathryn wasn’t quite sure where “further in” meant, because all she could see were clouds of iridescent mist.  
  
But then out of the mist emerged a towering silhouette. As they flew closer, Kathryn recognized that it was a crystalline formation of some kind. As they flew closer she saw a launch pad, similar to the one on the hillside below, tucked into what appeared to be a naturally-occurring alcove in the crystal.  
  
Yaala expertly landed the craft and then offered Kathryn her hand so she could step down into the alcove.  
  
As Kathryn’s eyes adjusted to the light, she found that the cave’s crystal walls twinkled merrily with flecks of dark purple and teal. Kathryn wished she’d brought a tricorder.  
  
“Wishing for your scanning equipment?” asked Yaala.  
  
“Guilty as charged,” said Kathryn, still wide-eyed. “What is this place?”  
  
“These are the crystal spires,” said Yaala simply. “They exist on all the planets and moons in this system. Our ancestors believed them to be the tools the gods used to create the world; but as best we can tell now, they were the product of a meteorite bombardment half a billion years ago.”  
  
“Remarkable,” said Kathryn, all business once again. “May we have your permission to return here with scanning equipment?”

“I’ll speak to the undersecretary for the preservation of sacred sites,” said Yaala with a chuckle, before adding, “you are always turned on.”  
  
“Beg pardon,” said Kathryn, wheeling around and smiling.  
  
“Working,” said Yaala, clarifying. “You are always working.”  
  
“Guilty once again,” said Kathryn with a shrug. “When you’re in charge of a starship, you never really get a day off. But…” she took a step closer to Yaala now and her mouth turned up at the corners in its own mischievous grin, “we humans have another meaning for the term ‘turned on.’”  
  
“Yes?” asked Yaala.  
  
“It means we desire intimate companionship,” said Kathryn.  
  
“And do you?” asked Yaala, “do you desire intimate companionship?”  
  
“I do,” said Kathryn.  
  
Yaala smiled, reached out a hand, and said, “follow me.”  
  
Kathryn took it and followed Yaala into a tunnel in the face of the crystal.  
  
As they went deeper, the glimmering lights grew steadily brighter until they reached a cavern that was draped with blue fabric.  
  
Kathryn didn’t know exactly what she had expected to find inside, but she was distinctly underwhelmed by what she saw when they turned the corner into its central chamber and found an ordinary looking block of ice, large and carved with intricate designs.  
  
It was beautiful, yes, but hardly unique.  
  
Yaala chuckled at Kathryn’s lack of response. “It is not for looking, Kathryn. It is for touching.”  
  
“Oh?” said Kathryn, intrigued, taking a step towards the ice.  
  
Yaala stepped in behind her and took her right hand. “May I?”  
  
Kathryn could feel a centimeter’s distance - if that - between Yaala’s athletic body and her own and again, she went a little wobbly at the knees. She’d been enjoying the flirtation, the attention of this beautiful woman, but now that they were alone together, now that their bodies were so close and the possibility of more than flirtation hung between them, Kathryn found herself slightly flustered.  
  
She hadn’t been with a woman since her Academy days, and that relationship had been a disaster. Pramila was just as intense, ambitious, and beautiful as Kathryn. Their relationship had been the talk of the second year. Their sex had been passionate, breathtaking, sensuous; but they’d never been able to find their rhythm as partners and they flamed out as brightly as they’d burned - with a messy breakup and months of stony silence before they could restore the collegiality they’d need as fellow Starfleet officers.  
  
And now here she was, alone and weak-kneed with another intense, ambitious, breathtakingly beautiful woman and she made a promise to herself: _This is not the Academy. You are not twenty years old. You are a Starfleet Captain and there will be no diplomatic incidents here. We’re leaving tomorrow. Just enjoy this for what it is._  
  
With that resolution firmly in her mind, she said, “yes please.”  
  
Yaala guided her hand to one of the channels carved into the ice and slowly slid it across the surface. Kathryn felt a shimmer of energy pulse up her arm, across her shoulder, and directly into her midsection.  
  
She pulled her hand away and turned to face Yaala, shock and delight mingled on her face, her breath coming up a little short. “What was that?”  
  
“It is _kata_ pulse,” said Yaala simply. “It is based on the same principle as the temple gate. It… flows to the places where you have need.”  
  
Kathryn turned back to the ice and placed her hand on it again. The shimmer built afresh beneath her palm, but it was softer now without Yaala’s hand on hers.  
  
Then Yaala touched the nape of Kathryn’s neck, gathering her thick curtain of titian hair out of the way and trailing her fingertips softly down Kathryn’s right arm. The shimmer grew and became warm under Kathryn’s hand, and then Yaala reached her hand and interlaced their fingers.  
  
The shock of sensation nearly made Kathryn’s legs buckle. She could feel the ice melting like a sudden torrent under her palm, with little rivulets of water running down her wrist and dripping to the floor. The shimmer of energy was now throbbing, wending its way up the line that Yaala’s fingers had traced over her arm and expanding over her nipples, down her belly, into her clit.  
  
Then Yaala took her hand away and the shimmer faded.  
  
Kathryn turned to look at Yaala. Her face was flushed with pleasure.  
  
“Is this too much for you?” asked Yaala, with a look of concern. “Only, you were trembling so.”  
  
“Not at all,” replied Kathryn, leaning forward and rising up to lay a soft kiss on Yaala’s beautiful mouth.  
  
Yaala purred a little sigh and returned Kathryn’s kiss with equal parts tenderness and rising ardor, running her fingers over the softness of Kathryn’s exposed arm and feeling her strong, lean body underneath the peach silk gown.  
  
For her part, Kathryn ran her long, elegant fingers over the patches of Yaala’s skin that were exposed by the cutouts on the suit’s sides and back.  
  
And then Yaala was pushing her up against the block of ice again and the shimmer of pleasure resumed, swelling in her chest, her throat, her cheeks and ears, down into her belly, through the tip of her clit and all the way down to the root.  
  
She groaned and her legs fell open almost reflexively as her pelvic muscles clenched and released involuntarily several times.  
  
Yaala trailed one finger up her thigh and then brushed her knuckles over Kathryn’s swollen labia, which were warm and full even through her silk boy shorts.  
  
Kathryn moaned more deeply now and rubbed herself unselfconsciously against Yaala’s knuckles, their tongues intertwined, her hands now playing at Yaala’s nipples through the silken fabric of her suit.  
  
But despite how delicious Yaala’s hands felt on her, and despite the incredible effect of the kata pulse, something was beginning to make her uneasy. It had been a long time since she felt quite this out of control with anyone and she didn’t like it. She needed to regain the upper hand.  
  
Mastering herself, with slow deliberation, she let her fingertips trail down Yaala’s belly and rub at the soft flesh between her legs. She didn’t know exactly what to expect, but Yaala had known were to find hers well enough so they couldn’t be too different.  
  
Yaala made a sweet little mewing sound when Kathryn’s fingers found the right spot, just as swollen and sensitive as her own. As she began to work, she performed a neat little Aikido pivot with her feet, turning the taller woman and pressing her back against the ice.  
  
The effect on them both as Yaala’s back made contact with the ice was electric. Yaala’s eyes flew open, their golden brown centers fixated on Kathryn’s blue eyes with ravenous desire. She wiggled her hips sensuously against the ice and rubbed against Kathryn’s fingers, which were now making little circles before pressing in gently.  
  
“Oh,” Yaala murmured as she leaned close and kissed Kathryn again, “yes Kathryn. Yes.”  
  
Kathryn lightened her touch a little and leaned close to whisper in Yaala’s ear. “Is there somewhere we can be a little more…” she searched for a euphemism and then decided it wasn’t necessary, “horizontal?”  
  
Yaala giggled and actually blushed a little. “Yes, there is in the next chamber.”  
  
“Lead the way,” said Kathryn, trailing her finger back up Yaala’s belly before placing a hand around her waist and helping her to stand again.  
  
Yaala took Kathryn’s hand and led her through the blue cavern and into another, where the lights were considerably lower and torches flickered in sconces around the walls. The entirety of the floor was covered in cushions upholstered with soft, colorful fabrics.  
  
“This is a sacred space,” said Yaala, her voice taking on a serious note. “It is host to worship gatherings between many lovers.”  
  
Kathryn smiled and bit her lip, “in our language, we would call that an orgy. Many cultures in Earth’s history included sex in their sacred rituals.”  
  
“And do you include sex in your sacred rituals, Kathryn?” asked Yaala, kneeling on the cushions and lifting her arms, inviting Kathryn to join her.  
  
“I’m honestly more of a scientist than a sacred ritual person,” said Kathryn, hoping that her honesty would not offend her companion, “but if you’re asking me if I consider sex sacred, then yes. I do.”  
  
She knelt next to Yaala and, after a moment of intense, prolonged eye contact, Yaala pounced on her, pushing her backwards onto the cushions and kissing her with almost alarming but nevertheless delightful ferocity.  
  
Yaala straddled one of Kathryn’s legs and rubbed against it wantonly. Her thigh was pressed up between Kathryn’s legs, and Kathryn moved her own hips against it with equal delight.  
  
Then Yaala licked her fingers and slid her hand up Kathryn’s skirt, pushing aside her shorts and gliding smoothly between her lips.  
  
Kathryn gasped as Yaala’s fingers searched out the tip of her clit and began working back and forth, teasing it from side to side.  
  
“I want to taste you,” said Yaala.  
  
Kathryn was shuddering and her legs fell open once again. “Please,” she mewed, lifting her hips a little so Yaala could remove her shorts.  
  
Yaala kissed her again and then wended her way sinuously between Kathryn’s legs, bringing her lips and tongue to the tender, swollen spot where her fingers had been only moments before.  
  
The warmth of Yaala’s mouth on her clit momentarily overwhelmed all of Kathryn’s other senses. Yaala’s tongue was moving over it adeptly, now making circles, now teasing it back and forth, giving it a little space after each pass of her tongue to become more sensitive and engorged.  
  
Kathryn moaned and her breath started coming in little gasps. Yaala slid one finger, then two inside of her and began massaging her entire clit, gently nudging her cervix and rubbing the fingers that were not inside her between her lips.  
  
Kathryn’s entire abdomen felt like it was full of light. She worked her hips forwards and backwards and Yaala matched her timing with her adept fingers and agile tongue.  
  
“Oh god,” Kathryn gasped, eyes wide. “Oh god oh god ohhhhhh!”  
  
She came for what seemed like minutes on end, squeezing on Yaala’s fingers and grinding fiercely against her tongue, which was now licking the tip of her clit rapidly.  
  
When she managed to stop trembling, she looked at Yaala, who had come to rest next to her on the cushion, propped up on one elbow, with a very satisfied expression on her face.  
  
“I think you enjoyed that, yes?” she said, her lip curling into that mischievous grin that Kathryn was starting to recognize as a sign of desire.  
  
“Oh yes,” replied Kathryn. “And now it’s my turn.”  
  
Yaala’s jumper was deceptively easy to remove. A series of magnets held its many straps in place, but a quick tug released them and soon she was lying naked on the cushions, her lean, brown, athletic body spread out before Kathryn like a delightful feast.  
  
Kathryn removed her own dress - she couldn’t believe she’d kept it on this long - and crawled on top of Yaala, kissing her again and rubbing her nipples, which promptly doubled in size and turned blue.  
  
“Suck them,” Yaala said, and Kathryn did. Flicking her tongue over the swollen flesh and looking directly into Yaala’s honey brown eyes. Yaala purred and squirmed, and then several drops of sweet fluid came from her nipple.  
  
Kathryn pulled back for a second. “Is everything alright, Kathryn?” Yaala asked, suddenly solicitous again.  
  
“Yes, only,” said Kathryn, "just a little surprised. Human bodies usually only produce fluid from our nipples when we’re feeding our babies.”  
  
“Ah!” said Yaala, resting back on the cushions, “for us, this is simply a sign of arousal. We call it nectar. Is this alright with you?”  
  
“Yes, of course,” said Kathryn, “it was just a surprise, that’s all.”  
  
She applied her mouth to Yaala’s other nipple and tasted more sweet fluid in short order. Yaala began to moan and gyrate her upper body to get more pressure from Kathryn’s mouth. Kathryn took her other nipple between her fingers and began to tug gently.  
  
Yaala cried out and started to thrust wildly with her hips.  
  
“Kathryn,” she said, “I need you to fuck me. Now, please!”  
  
Kathryn slid her fingers between Yaala’s legs, uncertain of what she would find there. It was strikingly similar to her own anatomy, although more of Yaala’s clit was exposed to the surface. The tip was elongated and swollen, the legs equally so. Kathryn slid her fingers inside and felt a gentle suction. When she followed it, she found that her entire hand could fit easily, a feat which was met with cries of unmistakable bliss.  
  
She trailed her tongue down between Yaala’s legs and took the tip of her clit in her mouth, sucking gently and rubbing the legs with her other hand.  
  
Yaala shuddered, groaned, twisted her hips from side to side, and then came with great shrieks of pleasure that reverberated around the chamber. She squeezed Kathryn’s fist so hard that she feared she might have to explain some bruises to the Doctor tomorrow.  
  
When they came to rest next to one another, they kissed languorously and trailed their fingers lazily over one another’s skin before drifting into a pleasant, hazy slumber from which Kathryn awoke some time later to find that Yaala was sucking on her nipple and grinning up at her.  
  
“Again?” Kathryn asked, remembering with delight that lesbian sex didn’t have a definitive endpoint the way sex that involved men usually did.  
  
“Again,” said Yaala.  
  
—  
  
In the bleary light of early morning, Yaala escorted Kathryn to the beam out site. As they left the Temple, Kathryn noticed that the gates turned a pale, clear pink.  
  
“You are cleansed,” said Yaala, “this is what I had hoped.”  
  
“And you” asked Kathryn, taking her lover’s hand one last time.  
  
“I am also so,” replied Yaala, with bittersweet fondness. “Be well, my Captain.”  
  
Kathryn kissed Yaala goodbye and tapped her comm badge.

"Janeway to Voyager," she said. "One to beam up."

She hoped that whoever was working the graveyard shift in transporter room two was capable of discretion and wouldn't look too askance at her mussed hair and flushed face.  
  
She was surprised to find Commander Chakotay working the transporter controls.  
  
“Chakotay,” she said, “you’re not on duty until 0800.”  
  
Chakotay smiled, “I noticed the direction things were heading between you and Minister Yaala and I figured you’d be back late. I didn’t want to expose you to gossip.”  
  
She stepped up to the transporter controls and took his face in her hand.  
  
“Thank you, Chakotay,” she said, kissing him on the cheek.  
  
He closed his eyes and put his arms around her. They held each other like that for a moment and then he asked, “did you have fun?”  
  
“It was wonderful,” she said. “I really needed that.”  
  
“Good,” he said. “I’m going to try to get some sleep before my duty shift begins. Do you want me to beam you to your quarters first?”  
  
“No thanks,” she said. “How about I walk you home?”  
  
They wandered together through the corridors, which were mercifully deserted at 0400.  
  
When they got to his quarters, he looked down at her and smiled.  
  
“I’m not jealous, exactly,” he said, “but sometimes I wish I were an alien minister of arts and culture.”  
  
“Me too,” she admitted with a frankness that she normally did not apply to talk of their feelings for each other, “but if you were, we’d only get one night together, and I’d much rather spend years with you, Chakotay.”  
  
He blushed and grinned again.  
  
“Goodnight, Kathryn,” he said, kissing her on the forehead.  
  
“Sweet dreams,” she replied, and walked off down the corridor to her quarters and to bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, clitorises are much bigger structures than we've been taught. [Learn More.](https://helloclue.com/articles/cycle-a-z/what-is-the-clitoris)


End file.
